Don't Scream Part 20

Sure, she can have my bed and Ill sleep on the couch.

Oh, you dont have to do that, Brynn. I dont want to put you and Garth out of your room. Ashley can sleep on the couch.

Brynn shrugs, not bothering to tell Fiona that Garth probably wont even make it to their bed. Its a Thursday. He wont be home until late.

Listen, itll be fine. Ill take all the kids out for pizza or something, she says distractedly, as Garth turns away from the mirror with a lascivious grin.

Great. I owe you a huge favor, Brynn.

No problem. See you later.

She hangs up as her husband descends on the bed. She wishes she had time to quickly brush her teeth and comb her bed-head. And shes wearing one of his old thermal long-sleeved shirts and a pair of Old Navy flannel pajama bottoms circa 2000.

Ive got to get the boys up, she protests, giggling, as Garth wraps his arms around her and kisses her neck.

They can wait a few minutes.

A few minutes? Is that really all I get?

Hey, its all about the quality, not the quant.i.ty.

Sinking back against the pillows in her husbands embrace, Brynn puts all thoughts of the boysand Fiona, and Ashleyright out of her head for the time being.

Resting up for her bash tonight, Matilda Harrington is sipping Splenda-laced espresso and lazily flipping throughVogue in her sun-splashed living room when the florist truck arrives.

She sits up in her chair and leans forward to look through the tall bay window.

Theres her next-door neighbor, Mrs. Stallsman, tapping her way along the block with her white cane and guide dog. Tildy wonders, as always, why she doesnt just hire somebody to do her errands for her. Not that she herself has ever offered to help. But youd think that someone who can afford to live in this neighborhood would be able to afford a gofer.

The deliveryman emerges onto Commonwealth Avenue carrying a tall bouquet.

Uh-oh. It isnt tulips, is it?

No, thank goodness.

Even from half a story above the street, she can see that its roses. Red ones. And only a dozen.

Lena! Somebodys coming to the door, she calls.

The housekeepers footsteps dutifully venture from the kitchen to the front hall.

Tildy turns her attention back to her magazine. Theres a darling Marc Jacobs cashmere twinset that would be perfect for her trip next weekend with Ms. Harrington? These are for you.

She looks up to see Lena standing in the doorway with a tall, cut gla.s.sperhaps crystal?vase.

Yes, a dozen red roses.

He gets ten points for sentimentality; none for creativity or expenditure.

Unless they arent from him.

You can put them right here, Lena. She indicates the polished cherry end table beside her chair.

The housekeeper sets the vase on a coaster and exits, leaving Tildy to examine the card propped amid the blossoms on a tall plastic p.r.o.ng.

Its plain white, preimprinted with Happy Birthday scrolled in gold type.

Below, in unfamiliar script, is the message: See you tonight!

Nothing more. Not even a name.

He isnt even supposed to be at her party tonight.

She told him that if he couldnt come alone, she didnt want him to come at all.

You know I cant come alone, Mattie. Only he calls her that. He has from the start.

Well, I dont want to watch you dancing withher all night, Tildy said, knowing she sounded petulant, and not caring. Itsher party.

So what does this note mean? Has he changed his mind? Is he possibly going to surprise her therewithout his wife on his arm?

It wouldnt exactly be a surprise now that hes tipped his hand with the flowers, but Can these flowers be from somebody other than him?

Could be. A dozen red roses? Hes sent her flowers often enough for her to realize these arent his style.

But then who ?

Not Ray Wilmington.

G.o.d knows hes sent her flowers before, but not roses, and, anyway, he knows he isnt invited to the party.

Unless this is his way of letting her know hes planning to crash? Would he really be that bold?

Somehow, she doesnt think so.

G.o.d, she hopes not.

But if the flowers didnt come from either of the two men who come most readily to mind, shes got a mystery on her hands. She cant think of a single person who would anonymously send her birthday flowers n.o.body shes expecting to see tonight, anyway.

This would be so much easier to pull off if Kylah was traveling out of town this weekend, but she isnt.

Which means Isaac had to make up something about why he wont be home until late tonight. After midnight, probably.

He told her he was invited to a bachelor party for one of the guys from work. She didnt ask which guy, or where the party is being held, or why anyone would have a bachelor party on a weeknight.

That she trusts him and respects his privacy makes him feel even guiltier for lying.

But, as usual, he has no choice.

He cant tell her where hes really going again.

Nor can he tell her, when she calls his cell phone just past four oclock, that hes sitting not in his office, but in a rental car, in a traffic jam well north of midtown Manhattan.

What are you doing? she asks.

Without missing a beat he replies, Im in a cab going to a meeting. What areyou doing?

Same exact thing. Wheres your meeting?

Uptown. Yours?

Downtown. And never the twain shall meet, she says with a sigh, and he emits the obligatory laugh.

I wish you were coming home after work tonight, Isaac. I feel like getting pizza and seeing a movie.

Well, why dont you do that? With one of your friends?

Maybe I will. But Id rather do it with you.

Tomorrow night, he promises her, inching forward beneath the green road sign that readsNORTHBOUND NEW ENGLAND THRUWAY .

Okay, sounds good.

He glances at the clock, then at the map on the seat beside him, wondering if theres an alternate route.

Rachels face smiles up at him from an 8 10 photo lying next to the map.

What dont you want me to see?

So startled is he by Kylahs question that he swivels to look over his shoulder, almost expecting to see her peering through the window somehow, watching him.

What dont you want me to see?

Rachel. I dont want you to see Rachel not even her picture.

But, of course, Kylah isnt here, spying on him. Theres no one behind him, other than the frustrated occupants of a string of other cars at a complete standstill.

What dont you want me tosee?she asked. And Isaac comes swiftly to his senses as he realizes Kylah is talking about movies. Movies aretheir thing, together.

What dont you want me to see?

He asked her the same thing just last Sat.u.r.day afternoon, when he was headed to Loews Multiplex to kill a few hours while she had lunch with her sister.

Her answer was immediate: Nothing with a meet-cute, a good love scene, or John Cusack. Save those kinds of movies to see with me.

Now, trying to muster the same light-hearted tone, he instructs her, Dont see anything with a car chase, anything ratedR for violence, anything with subt.i.tles, or anything with a roman numeral after the t.i.tle.

Ive never met anyone with taste as eclectic as yours, Rachel said admiringly, having discovered bookmarked copies of both Albert CamusThe Strangerand Howard Sterns Private Partson his bedside table.

Dont worry, I wont see any of those movies, Kylah promises him now.

Isaac attempts to switch off the vivid scene replaying in his head, but it persists, like an old movie that pops up on every channel.

In fact, Kylah chatters on, as Rachel flashes a brilliant smile in his mental screening room, Im not even tempted to see anything like that. Especially the ones with roman numerals; you know I hate sequels.

I know.

The old movie plays on in his head Rachel (looking up from the newspaper): Hey, lets go seeFree w.i.l.l.y 2tonight.

Isaac (incredulous): Free w.i.l.l.y 2? Youre kidding, right?

Rachel (laughing): Wrong. You know how much I love whales.

Isaac (not aloud): You dont know how much I love you.

Listen, you dont have to worryIll choose a nice chick flick to see without you. Okay? Kylah, intruding again.

Doesnt she realize his thoughts are a million miles and a dozen years away? Doesnt she realize hes thinking about someone else?

No. She wont know unless you tell her.

And he wont make that mistake twice.

Okay, he mutters, and lifts his foot off the gas pedal to travel another six inches of pavement before stopping again.

Dammit. This couple-hundred-mile trip could take all day and for what?

So dont go.

Its not too late to back out.

Turn around, go back home, and What? Forget about Rachel?

I need you, Isaac, she said that day. Im scared, and I dont know what to do. Please Can you come up here tomorrow?

Sure, he said promptly, no additional questions asked, still reeling from what shed just revealed and forgetting all the reasons why he couldntor, at least, shouldntdrop everything and race to her side the next day.

After all, it was her birthday. And she was in trouble, facing something so unexpectedly huge that he couldnt even bring himself to ask the question whose answer would change everything.

Not over the phone, anyway.

He would wait until he saw her.

And regardless of the answer, he would do anything for her.

Anything So he cant turn around and go home now, and he cant forget about Rachel.

No way.